


Lust and Guilt

by OneShotWonder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Guilty Dean, Hurt Dean Winchester, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 15:01:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7939006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneShotWonder/pseuds/OneShotWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean kills a vampire who is feeding off a teenage girl, but in the lust for the kill, he doesn't realize that he might have been able to save her. Guilt washes over him. </p><p>We have always known that Dean has a lot of guilt and shame, even before his father gives up his life for him. Here is my take on one of the small hunts that could have started to feed the deep-seated guilt inside him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lust and Guilt

Dean dove into the room, all cracking boards and determination. His eyes quickly scanned the scene in front him, instincts strung tight like wire, and adrenaline pumping longingly into each limb. The room was dim, only a few streetlights shone through the old dirty windows and in the dim light, dust motes gently floated down in the beams. One of those beams lit up the forms in the middle of the room, curled together like lovers, but Dean knew better.

The vampire was latched onto the girl and moaning softly with grotesque pleasure. Her head hung limply back and her eyes bore the distinct faraway look of blood loss. She was young, maybe fifteen or sixteen, with smooth skin and delicate features that probably made her the envy of her peers.

The front of her shirt started to soak in the left over blood that the monster wasn’t able to drink fast enough.

Dean didn’t see its face at first, but it looked up with a smile when it heard the commotion, flashing scarlet covered teeth at the unwelcome hunter.

Dean’s mind exploded with a barely contained rage, and his muscles tightened in preparation. There wasn’t a word deep enough to cover the hatred he felt for these monsters, that fed on the innocent and scarred the lives of whoever was unlucky enough to be caught in their path. As always, Dean thought about his mother, her gentle cool touch, her smile, her bright shining face that made him think of angels, before he knew that angels could never come close to being as good and as pure as he had known her to be. He felt his blood boil when he thought about how she was taken from him, from the world because of one of these creatures. The unnatural stinking scum was part of the same stock that took away his happy childhood. His thoughts were too fast and too jumbled to gather up anything so clear and distinct as reason, but he knew, he could _feel_ the evil coming off the being in front of him, soaking the air with a fine mist of _wrong_.

The monster let the girl hit the ground with a thud that would have made Dean wince, if he wasn’t already in the process of lunging at the vampire. His grip tightened around the smooth wooden handle of the machete and he let out a snarl in the back of his throat that rivaled an animal. He moved quickly but the creature was fast and ducked under the first swing of his weapon, leaving only a few tufts of hair behind the swipe of the blade. It kicked out a foot in half surprise and Dean heard a crunch as it connected with his ankle. Pain shot up through his leg and for a brief second he could think of nothing but the white hot pulse of his ankle. He was on the ground and the vampire rushed him, pinning his machete hand to the floor beneath one knee, while clawed hands gripped his throat.

Dean’s free hand swung out in a left hook that surprised the creature enough to knock him off balance when it connected solidly with his jaw. Blood flew from its mouth as it toppled to the floor and Dean scrambled to get on top of it with his machete still in hand. Both of them scuffled brusquely on the floor, and Dean’s weapon came down with a shriek on the vampires arm, cutting through bone and scraping on the concrete floor. The creature let out a wail and turned it’s body to face the door, crawling with one arm away from the hunter as quickly as he could manage.

It scrambled and almost made it to his feet before Dean grabbed it’s pant leg and pulled it back down to the ground with a crack of bone. Blood dripped from Dean’s mouth as he pulled his body onto the creature and pushed the machete onto its neck.

Sudden raw elation filled him as he realized he would soon behead the thing that had caused so much pain. The adrenaline, the fight; it seemed in that moment that there was only happiness in the death of something evil. The vampire’s eyes caught his own and he could feel the corners of his mouth go up in a fierce smile as he brought down the machete slowly. Dean could feel blood rush to every part of him as the lust of the kill built up, and his mind had a perfect clarity that only this moment could bring. The blade cut through the soft flesh of the creature’s neck and the hunter savored the seconds, pressing agonizingly slow as the blood pumped out in spurts, spraying his hands and the concrete around them. He let out a gasp of pleasure when the vampire gurgled and he hit bone. He pulled the machete out and then with force, struck the final blow, severing the thing’s head with a clean slice.

He closed his eyes and savored the feeling for a couple of moments, catching his breath and feeling his heart pound in protest against his ribs. There was nothing quite like this feeling, no substance, no action had ever felt quite so good to him as being able to end the life of something that truly deserved it. It was a medicine to him that he never could admit to needing, but he did need it, and more importantly, he _wanted_ it. He tried his best to bottle up this feeling of rage and revenge and need while he was working the more mundane parts of the hunt, but during the kill, he could get this special kind of release. He wondered if his dad or Sam had ever felt this way when they hunted.

 

He ripped himself away from the thought when he heard a gasp from the girl.

He scrambled over to her, dropping the machete in a clang and gripped her face. Her hair was matted with blood from hitting her head on the floor when the vampire let her go, and Dean’s hand slipped to grip the back of her head gently. He turned her slightly and looked into her face, holding his breath while checking to see how damaged she was.

But there was nothing, her eyes were just an empty blankness that Dean knew all too well. He put his hand on the un-mangled side of her neck to find a pulse, but he already knew it wouldn’t be there. He knew death; he had been intimately acquainted with it since his very first memories. There was the thrill of killing something evil, and then there was this side. The side that carried the victims away into newspaper obituaries and statistical data. Her skull was in pieces under his hand and bile rose in his throat as he placed her gently on the floor with an unsettling crunch. 

He stared for a moment and took in everything that had just happened. Trying to catch his breath as some of the adrenaline seeped out of him like a dripping faucet. 

The hunter was suddenly slammed with a soul numbing guilt. _I couldn’t save her._

His breath hitched as the realization washed over him like a cold shower.

If he would have let the vampire run away, if he would have beheaded the thing quickly, would he have been able to save her life? Did his lust for the kill pull him so far down he didn’t even notice the last breaths of an innocent person three feet away? _God, what have I done?_

His ankle throbbed and he suddenly felt extremely heavy, staring at the girl with wide eyes that he could hardly hold open much longer. The what-ifs screamed in his head like a million voices, scrambling all to be heard over the others and he winced while he pushed his blood-slick hands to his ears. Above all the screaming voices, one thought rose up to be heard the loudest, “ _your fault,_ ” it rang, clear and clanging like church bells.

The siren in the distance pulled him out of his head and he forced himself to take a deep breath. He afforded a few precious seconds before he let the panic of action take him over, and he gathered his emotions from their splayed out position. He tucked them into himself, deep down, and pushed hard to lock them away so he could act. The police were coming and he needed to get out of here.


End file.
